


Torn

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: He's Just Like His Daddy [12]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confessions, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mickey loves being pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon Prompt :"Mpreg Mickey prompt: Mickey basically feeling torn. He loves the two children he and Ian have but part of him wants to be pregnant again and have another child again. Ian catches Mickey crying over wanting to be pregnant. Then they decide together. Author's choice whether they have more Gallavich kids or not."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn

**Author's Note:**

> I loved this idea! plus, it really fits well with another prompt I got with this series - you will see;)

Mickey's wide awake; he'd tried a million times to just close his eyes, count sheep, and finally get a couple of hours before the house turned into an up roar of screaming children, but it just wasn't working. He had just set Owen and Grace down to sleep, after hours and hours of telling them it was late, and Ian was working his late shift that he always did on a Tuesday night. It was a normal night but it was Mickey that felt different. He's torn.

He loves his life right now; he had the perfect two kids, a perfect redhead that loved him just like they were teenagers. Mickey couldn't ask for anything else; he wouldn't. All he wanted to do was make it even better.

Looking at his children, he loved them more than life itself. Owen was this little shit, finally coming to terms with the world of trade and business, only at the age of 7 and he was already scamming the both of them of their money. Grace was a little angel, of course, she stood by Mickey in everything that she did, and inside she was this fiery cracker that didn't take no shit off nobody; she always reminded Mickey of Ian, but she sure acted as vicious as Mandy. Obviously, he wouldn't survive without them and Ian, he loved the three of them more than they could imagine. something had popped into his mind recently, though.

Mickey missed being pregnant. Call him weird, but he really missed the feeling of growing a life form inside of himself. He wonders what it would have been like if they hadn't had kids, if he had never got pregnant - but, he doesn't want to think like that, nor about it, being  pregnant was something terribly special to him. He feels a little hormonal, like he's having withdrawals from the feeling of having a bump, and he's staring at the ceiling feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

His hands trail down his chest, feeling for nothing but toned muscles and a flat stomach. In his mind he wished there was a bump, a little lump of smoothed skin that kicked a couple of times. He feels his face burn up in hurt, his hands wanted to run along a bump that held a child. He hated to admit it, but it was the truth; Mickey wanted another child. Not that he was bored with the others ; God, he would never get bored with his little babies, his children that not only got on his nerves,  but they loved him as much as he loved them. But, of course, Mickey missed the whole pregnancy thing, the whole having a baby, staying up late hours, cooing a crying baby that needed milk, seeing Ian in dad mode helping the little guy fall asleep.

He wasn't sure how to break it to Ian, or even try to explain what he was feeling. He wanted to expand their family, have a little baby giggling in a highchair, but it would be hard even to start explaining it all. How can one explain that they miss being pregnant and having fat ankles, weird appetites, and puking all the time?

Mickey rubs a hand over his eyes, wincing when he realises his hand gets wet from the tears already fallen from his eyes. He shakes his head, turning to his side as embarrassment kicked in from his pathetic attitude at this point. He's fucking crying. Mickey Milkovich is fucking crying, why was this happening?

He closes his eyes and his mind flashbacks to nights where Ian would get up, letting mickey sleep, as he would coo the little baby crying in his cot, tossing a turning. He loved that feeling, the feeling of being a father and holding your child in your arms for the first time. It was nothing he could of ever imagined. He wanted it all over again.

Suddenly he realises he's turned into a mess, trying to tell himself that Ian would understand, but the other part of his mind is telling him the opposite. A tear falls over the bridge of his nose, his hand absently trying to find a bump to hold, and he flinches suddenly as the bedroom door creaks open.

The light from the hallway automatically sheds against his face, showing the world he was being a pussy and crying alone. Ian's standing in the doorway, Mickey hadn't realised how late it actually was, his coat falling from his shoulders, and his hair wind swept and all over the place. Mickey doesn't bother closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep, he was too far gone now and it was obvious that Ian had clocked on. "Mick?"

In response, Mickey sniffles. Ian toes off his shoes and kneels by the side of the bed, one hand falling at Mickey's waist, his face hovering next to his. "Are you - what's going on?" Times like this, Ian didn't really know how to react to Mickey crying; it wasn't usual, at all.

Mickey feels himself want to run, or just plain lie and say its hay fever or that he's got a summer cold; instead, for the first time, he falls with the truth. "I've been thinking."

"Yeah?" Ian's eyebrows shoot up, his hand still trying to sooth Mickey. "What about?"

Mickey hates how he falls apart so quickly now; he hates the fact that Ian could get him to talk so fast. He stares into Ian's eyes, feeling a drip of water fall over his nose. He can't do it. It would sound too weird and too crazy. He sniffs up, wiping his hand under his nose. "It's nothing. It doesn't matter." He turns over, his back now facing Ian.

"Wait-" Ian pleads. Mickey clenches his eyes shut in guilt, but he's no where near explaining the weird crave to be pregnant again. He hears Ian pulling off his pants and dumping his shirt into the corner of the room; he feels the creak of the bed and the dip of the mattress when Ian slips in beside him.

Ian scoots closer, his arm finding itself wrapped around Mickey's waist, trying to pull him against his chest. "Seriously, Mick, what the fuck is wrong?"

Mickey sighs, trying to breathe. "Its just-" he tries to back out, but he needs to say this. He needs to get this out after weeks of bottling it up. It was stupid really. He turns in Ian's hold facing him. He lifts his hand and trails his finger along the defined line of Ian's jaw. "I miss it." He whispers.

Ian's face scrunches in confusion, "Miss what?"

Sort of in a trance, Mickey pauses for a while, his finger repeating its path along the line of Ian's jaw. Ian catches his wrist, pulling it away from his face, his eyes yearning for an answer that Mickey wasn't yet ready, nor equipped to answer. "Mick." He demands.

Mickey chuckles, his throat a little croaky still. He tries to be quiet, he didn't want to wake the kids up before he finally confessed his stupid feelings. "This is going to sound fucking ridiculous." He starts, laughing to himself, bowing his head a little shyly.

Ian taps his chin, drawing his face up to look at him. "It can't be that bad is it? Did something happen today that I don't know about?" Bless, Ian. He seemed very worried and that makes Mickey feel even worse.

"No, no." Mickey stutters, his body a little nervous. "It's not that shit. Its just - just-" Ian gives him a reassuring nod to continue. "I miss it- I miss being, well, knocked up." He shouldn't have really put it like that, but that's how he felt.

Ian stays quiet, stunned. He stares at Mickey as if he's told him top secrets of the world; Mickey's scared that Ian might laugh, or worse, just plain say no to the underlying suggestion. "Mick - what are you saying?"

Sighing, Mickey threads his fingers with Ian's. He's rehearsed this too many times to count, and like usual it never went how he imagined. "What I'm trying to say is, well, fuck-" he hides his face into Ian's chest. "I want another fucking kid, man." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

  
Ian pulls him up, hand now cradling the side of his face. "Mick, we already have two. Isn't that enough? I mean, we're getting pretty fucking old." His thumb strokes against his cheekbone, nearly luring him into sleep.

Mickey clutches to Ian's wrist, pleading internally. "I know, I know. Owen and Grace are perfect. More fucking perfect than I could ever of asked for," and they were; they had grown so fast, so beautiful, so great, but it didn't stop Mickey from wanting to hold a little baby in his arms again. "I just - I want to feel - or have, I just-"

Ian cuts in, stopping Mickey from stuttering his ass off. He cradles his face, placing a kiss against his damp lips. "I get it. Okay, I get it. I do." He fixes his gaze on Mickey, trying to wipe away the access wetness that had recently formed underneath Mickey's eyes. "You want another kid, I know. I would love to have another one running round here, fuck I would. But lets just take this slow, okay. Let nature do the work?"

Feeling reluctant, Mickey nods anyway. Ian was right. They couldn't just force the pregnancy, they wanted it to be natural, to be conceived in a moment of love and and not a purposeful, planned fuck that occurred just for that reason. "Okay." Mickey whispers, leaning his forehead against Ian's chest.

"Okay." He begins to repeat. Ian kisses the top of his hair, his hand running back and forth along the curve of Mickey's back. He smiles a little as he kisses Mickey's cheek gently. "I love you." He says, his voice genuine and sweet like a summer nights breeze.

Mickey feels his heart nearly pound out of his chest; yes, he was upset that he wasn't pregnant, but he was still happy with everything he had now. He loved every single thing that he had at this moment in time; he loved his two kids, so fucking much, and he loved Ian untill his last breath.  He leans into Ian's warmth, tangling their legs together. "I love you too, Gallagher."

He feels a little out of character, but he blames that on hormonal withdrawal - if that was even a thing. Despite his desperate nature to have another kid running around their apartment, Mickey was excited for nature to do its work; and hopefully it would work in his favor.


End file.
